The problem lies, of course, in the fact that by 1944 she still
believed in him, still professed innocence of the death camps.

THE WONDERFUL, HORRIBLE LIFE OF LENI RIEFENSTAHL

A Illusion review by Joan Ellis.

"The Wonderful, Horrible Life of Leni Riefenstahl" is a superb
documentary that was initially and more aptly called "The Power
of Images." It could also have been called "Leni Riefenstahl
meets Ray Mueller." In his determination to let the legendary
German film-maker speak for herself, the director leads her on a
tour of the landmarks of her life and work, confronting her with
the contradictions in her life, but resisting the temptation to
interrogate. The result stands alone as a visual exploration of
the mind and soul of a human being.

Riefenstahl's name is rarely spoken in Germany today, so
thoroughly was she connected in the public mind with the Third
Reich. Her "Triumph of Will" was a driving force in the
glorification of the Nazi Party as it came to power. The rally
she filmed in 1933 was still a somewhat ragtag, disorganized
group, but she brought to it an extraordinary eye and original
camera techniques that bestowed grandeur on a force for evil.
She has been punished for that for over fifty years.

Riefenstahl's fascination with the majesty of the human form has
been the focus first for "Triumph of the Will," then for
"Olympia," later for her photographs of the Nuba tribesmen in
Africa. Now in her 92nd year, she is filming the ocean floor
herself, returning with predictably monumental images. Prevented
by public opprobrium from making major films, she still manages
to have her hand on an editing machine or a camera whenever she
can.

Mueller's film bores slowly, over a three hour period, to the
core of this passion. Riefenstahl has been obsessed by film
making since the day she skipped her train to see a movie. Far
ahead of any one else in the field, she pioneered the world of
images -- directing, leading and teaching the men who she
gathered around her. As a study of obsession, this film is
riveting.

The world still asks "What did she know and when did she know
it?" Riefenstahl denies guilt, insisting that her art was
entirely separate from politics. Once asked to film the party
rally, she says, she decided to do the absolutely best she could,
as any artist would. She adds that in 1933 it was by no means
clear that Hitler was evil. The problem lies, of course, in the
fact that by 1944 she still believed in him, still professed
innocence of the death camps. While her colleagues fled the
country, she chose to stay where she was allowed to work.

It is quite true that she made no further films for Hitler, true
also that she managed to be elsewhere when needed. But the
overwhelming sense of this woman is that she saw what was there
and chose to deny it to herself in deference to her own obsession
with film. The pity is that one of the world's most brilliant
innovators crossed paths with history's most barbarous being and
failed to step back. But then that is the nature of obsession.